


Better Weather

by noseforahtwo



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Because he should ride shotgun on every conversation, Extra helpings of Dorian, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 10:12:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3323678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noseforahtwo/pseuds/noseforahtwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I never noticed before," Dorian mused. "But that great hairy lummox has the filthiest laugh I've ever heard. Speaking as someone who's spent long weekends in the lake district with the sort of people who conjure up desire demons for fun- I should know."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Weather

"I can't believe you're scared of magic, Sera. It's a gift as mundane to me as your bow to you. Surely you see there's nothing to fear in a properly used tool."

Sera, who wasn't fond of riding horses, wove between Evelyn and Dorian's mounts, keeping a sharp eye out for anything Blackwall's might leave behind as she walked. "Tell that to all the "proper" mages wavin' their tool in people's faces!"

"There's an image." Dorian arched an eyebrow as Evelyn snorted.

But the elf was just getting wound up. "What about Coryphemus? How many "proper tools" does he have under him? And the rebel mages? How many "proper tools" have they raised?"

Dorian swapped hands on his reins long enough to pinch the bridge of his nose. "That's not- I don't think I can continue."

"Right, well, I don't care how _gifted_ you are." Sera shifted the bow on her back, squinting up at him. "Don't cram it where it's not wanted."

"If you two can't play nicely just-" the rest of Evelyn's comment was cut off by Blackwall, yards ahead, who let out a delighted guffaw. "Blackwall," she called to his back. "Don't encourage her. Cock jokes? Really?"

Sera stuck her tongue out at Evelyn and doubled back to peer into the weathered remains of a wagon by the road.

"I never noticed before," Dorian mused. "But that great hairy lummox has the filthiest laugh I've ever heard. Speaking as someone who's spent long weekends in the lake district with the sort of people who conjure up desire demons for fun- I should know."

In response to what Evelyn hoped was a noncommittal, uninterested _Hmmm_ , Dorian leaned closer, his horse sidling until they bumped stirrups. "It gives me the most delicious tingly sort of feeling."

"You don't say?" Evelyn suddenly found her own reins absolutely fascinating.

"Oh, yes," the mage smirked. "All shivery, between my toes."

"Your toes?"

"Between the two big ones."

Evelyn was still frowning, trying to remember if Dorian had ever said anything about sex and feet and Tevinter courtship when Sera crowed, "His bits! He's talkin' about his bits.Tingly! I get it."

Blackwall grunted and with much creaking of leather, turned back in the saddle to level a frown at the three of them. "I'll thank you not to mention your bits further, Dorian. And Sera, get on a horse. Don't care whose. We're wasting time."

"Oh, do carry on playing disinterested, Warden." Dorian held a hand down to the elf, who scrambled up and into the saddle behind him with nimble agility Evelyn envied. Then again, she thought, I can carry on a polite conversation when the moment demands it, and I chew with my mouth closed, so we all have our strengths.

"Takes more than smelling like a girl to interest me," Blackwall shot back. Evelyn picked at a callus on her thumb, very pointedly not looking at anything but Sera digging her toes into the back of Dorian's calf.

"Is that meant to hurt my feelings? Warden, in a few hours these clouds will be pissing down, and in the morning one of us will smell like a damp pretty girl, and the other will smell like an old carpet."

* * *

It didn't rain. It got cold. Full dark found them as close to the fire as possible without singeing their clothes. "What happened to better weather? Remind me to have a word with Solas about his predictions when we get back." Evelyn groused, huddling closer to Sera where they sat wrapped on a log in blankets over coats and mufflers, birds on a bare branch. "Dorian, sweetheart, can you set me slightly on fire? You know, more than not on fire, but shy of Definitely On Fire."

"Doesn't-t-t work that way, love." He stamped his feet and attempted to wedge between the two women. Sera squawked but slid a grudging few inches. Looking across the flames, "Blackwall, I take back everything I've said about your extreme hirsuteness. Today. Everything I said today, mind. Maker's shriveled balls! Aren't you cold, man?"

"A bit." The sword on Blackwall's knee gleamed as he ran one of a dozen little stones he carried- carefully wrapped in leather and packed where they were always within reach- along its edge. "Cold is in your head, Dorian. Once you decide you're cold, there's no getting rid of it."

"Thank you. That's very helpful." With an aggrieved glance to his right, he pulled his knit cap down over his ears, "Stop squirming about! I've just gotten settled and you're letting the cold air back on my side."

Evelyn gripped the blanket around herself tighter and sat still. No good. There was nothing to be done for it. Standing, she threw the thick, slightly damp wool into Dorian's lap and headed for the trees past their tents. "You can't keep that, fussy boots," she scowled over her shoulder at her shivering companion,"I'm coming right back." And promptly walked into Blackwall. "Shit! Sorry!"

Caught between stepping on the toe of his boot and testing just how On Fire a person could be, she stumbled. He pulled her away from the campfire with a hand on her hip. Instantly and unbearably red in the face she stammered her thanks. Despite the thick padding of his coat, the bicep under her hand stiffened, flexed a bit before he took a step back. And wasn't that terrifyingly interesting?

"My lady. What do you need from the packs?" Blackwall tilted his head toward the horses.

"It's fine. I can manage." She blew on her fingers, looked at the grass, stepped carefully out of the circle of firelight. Having picked out the closest tree with a trunk wide enough to hide behind, she turned. "No," Evelyn held up a hand as he made to follow.

"None of us should leave camp alone. Least of all-"

"Andraste's saggy tits, Blackwall!" The dagger she yanked out over her shoulder flashed in the moonlight as she waggled it at him. "See? I'll be fine, I don't need a Grey Warden escort to go pee."

The solicitous look faded into a carefully blank expression as he nodded. "As you like, My lady."

A small part of her brain kept track of looking out for slavering beasts in the undergrowth, and not wetting her boots, but everything else was focused on grinding embarrassment. The bark of her chosen tree rough against her forehead, Evelyn weighed the risk of hiding out until...Well, until she froze to death. Because she couldn't very well stay here the rest of the night, thinking about how she'd stared up at him, fingers clenched on his arms, stuttering like a teenager with a crush on her tutor. And furthermore, she told herself sternly as she pulled up her trousers with numb fingers on the laces, the longer she was gone the more Dorian would have to say tomorrow, damn his beady little eyes. Tingly between the toes indeed. Purple-sparkled little shit.

Mage-hating got her laces done up and back by the fire. Maker, she was so cold the bones of her legs ached. Blackwall sat flagpole straight with his back to the trees, sword put aside as she skirted his side of the fire. Lovely. He'd probably heard her castigating herself over the sound of pee on frozen ground. Did Darkspawn blood give you heightened senses for everything or just malicious demons?

Dorian had the gall to leer at her as her shadow fell over him, now huddled under both blankets.

"Shut up." She hissed and tugged one hem.

"I'll fight you for it. Best two out of three."

With a jerk which should have unseated him, Evelyn claimed her blanket, threw it over herself, pulled her coat collar back up around her ears and kicked at his ankle.

"Open up."

"Beg pardon?" Dorian's nose was nearly as red as the bits of ribbon Sera had woven into her thick woolen muffler.

"Spread your legs." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Blackwall twitch and get back to work. Well. Isn't that terrifyingly interesting?

Sera perked up from her spot on the log. One hand emerged from her blanket holding a flask. "Oooohhh, is this what we're doin' tonight, yeah? When's it my turn to spin the bottle, Inky?"

"Hush." Evelyn nudged at Dorian's once lovely, but now battered and stained, boot again. "I'm fucking freezing, you berk, move so I can sit in front of you. You're at least useful for body heat."

"That's a bit harsh!" They arranged themselves without anyone being stabbed, shocked, or burnt, only their faces exposed above the seams of their blankets. "I am also highly decorative."

Evelyn settled back against his chest, shivering convulsively. When Dorian considerately slid his belt buckle to one side and wrapped blanket covered arms around her she nudged his jaw with her temple, as unlocking her own arms for an apologetic pat was beyond her.

Sera huffed."Who'm I supposed to cuddle? Beardy! I'm gettin' on your lap, then."

Blackwall kept his eyes on his blade, "Not a chance."

"Piss!" A furious swig from the flask and Sera stood. Bread crumbs and what looked to be a few dead bees sifted down from the folds of her blanket. "I'm to bed then. And I'm gonna fart up your tent while I'm at it, Arse Biscuit."

"I will drag you straight out by your ankles, elf." Blackwall scowled beneath heavy brows, "Then turn you over and shake until I've enough coppers for a round in the tavern."

"Shite arse."

Dorian's cheery goodnight was met with a two fingered salute and a remarkably wet belch. Evelyn uncrossed her legs so her feet were nearer the coals and watched the whetstone slide back and forth. The rise and fall of Dorian's chest behind her slowed, his arms crossed over her own squeezed, heartbeat reassuringly steady as his chin came to rest atop her head. The Tevinter mage's easy affection did wonders for the shivers.

Blackwall pocketed the stone, and Evelyn stared at his teeth, wolfish in his beard as he bit down on the middle finger of his glove then pulled it off to test the sword's edge on his thumbnail. Satisfied, he put everything back and yawned hugely, looking over the fire and the two of them with a critical eye.

"Sorry." Evelyn tried a hopeful sort of raised eyebrow in his direction.

"No, it's fine, barely tickling now." Dorian mumbled, blew a strand of her hair aside.

"Not you." Blackwall's eyes slid over the toes of her boots.

"Sorry I snapped just then."

"Not important, my lady." He said to the fire, fingers laced together between his knees.

"No, I mean it. It's the cold. It's-It makes me..."

"Bitchy?" Dorian supplied above her.

"Yes, thank you."

"Happy to help, love." Evelyn pinched the first bit of leg she could reach. "Ow!"

"I mean it. You're absolutely right about...Well, you're usually right about everything. I should have made Sera go with me or something." Evelyn hoped the light was too dim for him to see her face heating up again. "I just...I have a hard time reconciling this. What I'm supposed to be doing. It feels odd to have so many people watching me. Literally watching me, at least out here there's a good reason. But back in the Hold is worse, strangers. They're all waiting, I can feel them when I walk past the Hall, they all want so much. A favor in the meantime, want me to hurry up and put everything right, they... _want_. " The newly healed skin on Blackwall's temple puckered as he clenched his jaw, still watching the flames. Under her blanket, she picked at that spot on her thumb until it stung. "Sometimes I need to pretend I can still- For fuck's sake, Blackwall, feel free to interrupt me or else I'm going to ramble on about how _inconvenient_ it is having to save the world."

Blackwall pinned her with a flat stare. "It is hard, my lady. A hundred thousand relying on you to stand against Corypheus. I wouldn't trade places with you, Herald."

"Oh, please, don't start with the Herald of Andraste bit. I keep telling you it's rubbish."

"As you like, my lady."

"And the My Lady has to stop. I'm not-" She lost her nerve, looked off into the darkness. "I feel like you're only saying it to tell me how unladylike I am. Like you're reminding me to behave." Evelyn sat up a little straighter.

The Warden carefully rolled up his little pouch of stones, sheathed the long sword and drew his dagger for inspection before answering. "Maybe I mean to show you respect. As the leader of the Inquisition."

Evelyn snorted. "I think anybody who's carried me away from the Charger's table like a sack of flour would know better. Being the leader of the Inquisition is just me standing in front of people, taking credit for what Josie and Leliana and Cullen have done. It's me trying not to get killed while you two take mauls and poison and balls of fire meant for me."

Blackwall absently scratched that healing, too shiny spot of skin, said nothing for just long enough that she started to fidget, pulled her feet back under the blanket.

A lazy gesture into the silence from Dorian and the fire burned with renewed vigor. "I'll have you know it was me who got you back to your quarters the night with the Chargers, love. The good Warden was in no condition to be responsible for anything beyond staggering back to his own little den. He did make a gallant attempt, but you told him- rather tersely if I recall- 'Pick me up and I'll puke down your back.'"

Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut and drew the edge of her blanket over her face. "Lovely! That sounds like something I would have said." Dorian gave her knee an apologetic pat. "No, that's all. I'm staying in here for the night, thanks. Done." Even the sanctuary of a freezing tent seemed inviting until the burr of Blackwall's voice interrupted her self loathing.

"Can't say what your people, your family, would consider a lady's responsibilities. To a commoner, it's mad." And Evelyn felt a sour twist of shame at the disgust in his voice, "Lords and ladies, on bowling greens eating rabbit tongues while down the lane children are buried for want of bread."

Dorian stiffened behind her. Evelyn emerged from the blanket and found she couldn't look away from Blackwall's intent, searching gaze.

"Just last week I watched you divy your supper between two shoeless little scarecrows outside Redcliffe."

"I had things in my pack. I wasn't going to starve. Are you implying that being a decent person is why I got stuck with the anchor?"

Blackwall leveled the dagger at her, it's edge splintering light from the fire. "You've won people to your cause in every village. But told the Commander to go hang when he pushed for conscription. Twice."

Evelyn blinked. "It's a bad idea. We don't need a lot of resentful near-hostages in the Hold, learning to use a sword when I know they're going to bolt back home first chance they get. If we're lucky. If not, they sign on with the Red Templars or the mages, and then we get our sword back. Pointy bit first."

"Right. Don't need conscripts. Because they come willingly. To you. Not the ambassador, or The Nightingale's bards and tavern wenches and dirty little bribes; you. The Inquisitor, sitting on a stump in Dennet's farm with your knitting, while the healer picks gravel out of a ruddy great gash in your leg."

"Not so impressive if they'd seen me running from that Mabari. The pain potion Bull gets from the Chargers is just lovely."

"Don't pretend to misunderstand me, Evelyn."

Like being called on the carpet by Nanny, she found herself blinking away tears. Blackwall finally looked back down at the dagger in his hand, wiped the flat of the blade on his coat sleeve.

"Oh, the new ones love me now. They love you, the big Grey Warden sparring in the courtyard, and Cullen, too. They're just happy to be getting paid, and no one makes them march back over those mountains or dig latrines all day. But they'll hate me when we find Corypheus. When the bodies start piling up."

Blackwall's eyes focused somewhere over their tents, a hand pulling his beard thoughtfully. "I've seen green officers broken by giving orders. Lords who bought or inherited their rank drink themselves to death after sending men to die. Worse, the rest never give it a thought." Evelyn shuddered. "But a seasoned archer and a terrified farm hand have gone to the Maker in Lady Trevelyan's lap. The farmer-"

"Seth. He came from Redcliffe."

Blackwall nodded. "Clawing at your arms, keening. Who knows what he saw in your face? His girl at home, his Mum. You did right by him. By them both. Died with a soft hand on his face, a woman's voice telling him to be still, everything will be fine."

Reaching into the depths of his fur lined coat, Blackwall pulled out a flask, removed the cork with another flash of pointed canines and took a long pull before bringing it to Evelyn. The bulk of him there, sword, greaves, fur, squatting down between her and the fire was impossible to face. Evelyn stared at his boot. "Not a lot of fighting men get that sort of death. You did right by them, and you did your weeping later. When the work was done, the body seen to, the watch set, you washed that boy's blood out of your hair and cried like he was your own."

Evelyn took the flask, metal smooth and shockingly warm in her hand. "To Seth," she said to Blackwall's shoulder, terrified of the faith, the pride, she might see in his face. After Dorian took his own sip and muttered something in Tevene, Blackwall opened his coat to tuck it away.

"Haven."

"My lady?"

"The cold tonight. My legs feel frozen. It reminded me of Haven." Her teeth began to chatter, a deep, rattling shiver. "There was a cave, and wading through snow, following the humps under the snow. People, there were bodies under it. I know I said I'm bitchy, but it's scared me. Hadn't put it together until just now. Sorry."

"Right then." Blackwall pressed the warm flask back into her hand and walked away.

"Better have another nip, love. It'll help."

Evelyn sniffed and blinked hard.

"For my part, I'd never been so happy to see a woman armed to the teeth, half frozen and covered in gore. Blackwall? Thoughts?"

"This once we are in agreement, Dorian." The armload of wood he dumped on the fire threw up a maelstrom of sparks. "Drink. Warm yourself, then sleep."

Dorian rubbed his stubbled cheek against hers until she flinched away with a half-hearted laugh.

"Enough!"

"Never been happier. How would I keep these Southerners from eating me for supper without the Herald of Andraste's patronage?"

"Wouldn't have eaten you, Dorian." Blackwall took his seat again. "Gristly. Suppose The Iron Bull might have taken you hostage."

Dorian laughed, bright and lovely in the frigid air. "Threaten me with a good time, why don't you?" His mustache tickled Evelyn's ear as he pressed loud, ridiculous kisses on her cheek. "I was by the fire when that beautiful blond templar dragged your blue carcass in to the Revered Mother." Evelyn ducked her head, laughing outright now. "Love you to the Fade and back," Dorian declared. "Which may not be an idle vow in your company, darling."

Another swallow of the fiery stuff Blackwall had given her and she craned her neck to show the mage a genuine smile. "Just for that, you can be the little spoon."

Dorian's eyebrows climbed into his hairline. "My my, what will they say back in the Hold? You're right, though, too cold for sleeping alone."

"They'd better not say anything."

"Ashamed of me already, love? I'm crushed."

Evelyn had one last sip, replaced the cork with a squeak. "No, I'm used to being the prettiest one in bed. Bruised ego."

"Darling, I have hat hair. Don't sell yourself short. Out here, rusticating, freezing to death, at risk of tumbling down a mountain, neither of us are at our best." At Blackwall's contemptuous grunt, Dorian stood and hauled Evelyn to her feet. "Bears don't get a vote." Dorian tossed Blackwall his flask and yawned. "Tomorrow, when we're back in Skyhold, with your eyes made up in that charming smoky way, lips painted, frilly Orlesian unmentionables...Why I daresay we'd be a dead tie."

Evelyn groaned.

Dorian grinned."Ten royals says in a few minutes my mother sits bolt upright back home."

"You think?"

"Oh, yes, The moment a pair of tits are pressed against my back. Her matron's heart will feel that somewhere, somehow, her son is finally sharing a woman's bed." At her look, Dorian explained, "I'm not sleeping in my clothes, like a savage, love."

Evelyn frowned, "Definitely little spoon, then."

* * *

Blackwall's voice in the dark of her tent, frost on his breath as he shook her gently awake. "My lady."

Evelyn shook herself harder and slid out of the blankets, trying to keep Dorian's back covered as he rolled with a snort.. "Yes, yes, I'm awake," she whispered. "Just a moment."

The fire was roaring in the middle of their tents. It had rained while she slept plastered to Dorian's back. Blackwall's damp hair fell into his eyes as he pressed a scalding mug of tea into her hands.

"Awake?"

Evelyn nodded, "Yes, go on, go to sleep." She took the dry spot on the log and smiled up at him as Blackwall pointed to a bundle at her feet. Her knitting, laid neatly by the pile of dry wood.

Once the sky started to lighten up, it was easier to pretend she wasn't freezing. Birds made halfhearted attempts at song as Evelyn parted the flaps of tents enough to drag out damp boots and coats. While the porridge cooked slowly she wound up her balls of yarn and stretched, a cacophony of popping noises from her spine. There was a cough to her left and a string of curses fit to rust a kettle as Blackwall burst from his tent with a thunderous scowl.

"Sticky fingered little bint! If she's filled my pockets with pitch again I'll-" He stopped as he spotted Evelyn, his coat in hand, warm from the fire.

"No, it was me. Here, everything should be dry by now."

"My lady. Thank you."

Evelyn pulled the grey muffler up from the depths of the coat, threw it over his shoulders and tucked it tightly around his neck, his beard tickling the backs of her fingers. "Thank you, Warden Blackwall."

**Author's Note:**

> Go easy, it's my first time.


End file.
